


Shelter From the Rain

by ironinfidel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Asexuality, Awkward Conversations, Gen, M/M, Queerplatonic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironinfidel/pseuds/ironinfidel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis is marrying Selyse tomorrow morning and he is not happy about it. Only wine and the power of friendship will help him through this. Written for Asexy April over on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter From the Rain

Stannis Baratheon still remembers that his first instinct upon learning what took place in a marriage bed was to become a maester or a septon. He also remembers how Robert had laughed at him for it. This dream of celibacy lasted for a few years before Robert started up his rebellion and he was required to set aside his own hopes in favour of his brother's. It was his duty to do so, to sacrifice the remains of his youth and even his life for Robert. Once all was said and done, King Aerys had died at Ser Jaime's hand, Prince Rhaegar had been slain by Robert himself, his wife and children were butchered by the Lannisters, and Robert had taken the Iron Throne for himself and given Dragonstone to Stannis. He took the seaside fortress, not because he wanted it, but because he had been told to. Now a lord in his own right and the heir to the throne (or had been, until Joffrey was born), Stannis had no choice but to marry and continue his family's line.

 

With this in mind, he spent the next several years looking for a wife. He did not expect her to love him; no one ever had. His parents and brothers thought him too somber, he had never been able to speak to women, other men thought him too severe, and Davos' slavish devotion seemed more out of gratitude and respect than any personal affection. Despite this, he took the Onion Knight along every time he ventured to the homes of other lords and ladies and took his counsel to heart. In time, a match was arranged between him and Lady Selyse Florent of Brightwater Keep. She was not beautiful, or so he was told, but she was of a good family and would be integral for tying the Reach to the new royal dynasty. Davos had not been in favour of the match, but all things considered it was the best option. Still, even knowing he was doing what was required of him and that marriage was an arrangement encountered by most men at some point in their lives did nothing to quell the sense of dread Stannis had felt since the betrothal had been finalized.

 

It kept him awake most nights, knowing what lay ahead. He had no interest in bedding the maid, but to refuse to do so would not only render the marriage an unnecessary endeavour, but would leave him open to ridicule. Stannis felt his teeth begin to grind involuntarily at the idea. Too many japes had been made at his expense, and he would not provide those fools with more fodder. He would have to endure it. It must be done, and if Stannis Baratheon had one talent, it was doing just that. Hopefully his wife would provide an heir quickly and he might be able to avoid further unpleasantness.

 

“My lord?” asked a familiar voice from behind the door, snapping him out of his thoughts immediately. “Is something amiss? I can hear you pacing from mine own chambers.”

Stannis was torn between feeling impressed with Davos' auditory prowess and feeling shamed that he could not even restrict his anxiety to a private affair.

“No,” he said, slightly sharper than he had intended. “Nothing is amiss, ser.”

“Of course, my lord. Good night.”

 

Instantly Stannis was seized with a curious desire to call Davos back to his chambers and divulge everything. While sometimes he still found himself questioning the former smuggler's motives, he was still the closest thing Stannis had to a friend. The closest thing he had ever had to a friend, if he was being honest with himself. Instead he let the footsteps fade down the hallway and attempted to muffle his steps as he paced across the room.

 

There was a feast the night before his wedding was to take place. Stannis retired from it as early as he could, and in an action that would shock anyone who was familiar with the Lord of Dragonstone, he spent the rest of the evening drinking heavily. He had gotten through three cups of wine before there was a knock at the door.

 

“My lord?” Davos again.

“Ser Davos,” he replied, already slurring his words slightly. He was grateful Robert wasn't around to see this.

“My lord, have you been taken ill? You left your own feast quite early, and if I may speak honestly, you do not sound as you usually do.”

“I am not ill, Davos.”

He pauses. “Are you...drinking, my lord?” Davos sounds bewildered by the very idea.

“Yes.” Even in his cups, Stannis Baratheon does not lie.

 

Davos pushes the door open, despite the clear lack of invitation he has recieved to do so. Stannis does not deign to mention it. In a few long strides, Davos is crouched at his side, looking confused and...pained? Stannis has never been very good with other people; never learned to read them. Davos' skill with this, among other things, has been invaluable to him over the years of their acquaintance; even if he does have to endure the japes and rumours surrounding him and his upjumped commoner of an advisor.

 

“My lord,” Davos started, but was immediately cut off.

“Cut the courtesies, Davos. I grow weary of hearing you say 'my lord'.”

“Yes,” he stops briefly, as if expecting Stannis to cuff him round the ear and have him executed if he really does it. “Stannis. If I may,”

“You will say it regardless of what I tell you, ser, so just speak.”

“I am concerned, m – Stannis. That is to say, concerned about you.”

Stannis gives a slight snort of amusement. Davos considers himself fortunate to hear it.

“Why is that, Davos?”

He gestures at the goblet and tankard of wine sitting on the floor at Stannis' side.

“I am a man grown, ser, I may decide what I drink and when I do it.”

Davos frowns slightly, making him look older than he is. Stannis suddenly realizes he has no idea how many namedays Davos has seen, except that the knight is older than himself.

“My lord, you have hardly slept in a moon's turn. You hardly speak to anyone. In all of our years together, I have never seen you drink naught but water, nor heard you laugh, and now you have done both. I can only assume that something troubles you greatly.”

 

The two men sit on the floor of Stannis' chambers in silence for a few moments. Stannis tries to decide whether to confide in Davos, to tell him all of his anxieties and fears about marriage and what it entails, or whether it would be best kept to himself. Should he burden his only friend, the person he has loved most since Renly had begun to resent him for trying to be the boy's subsitute father, with the fact that he is no more of a man than the eunuch that sits on Robert's small council? He drinks another cup while he mulls it over. Davos does not move from his side.

 

“What is marriage like?” he finally asks.

The confusion returns to Davos' face.

“I cannot speak for any man but myself, but I could not have asked for more than what I have with my Marya. You have undoubtedly given me more, more than I could have ever deserved or dreamt of, but if you had simply sent me back to her with two copper stars for my troubles that day I would have died a happy man.”

“You love her very much?”

“Yes, of course. Marya is the best woman I have ever known, and I thank the Mother and the Maiden every day that she gave her hand to me.”

 

Davos smiles fondly when he thinks and speaks of his wife. Stannis envies him; he loved his parents, his maester, Davos himself, and even his brothers, for a time, but he will likely never feel what Davos feels for his Marya, left behind at the Seaworth keep on Cape Wrath.

 

“Have I done you a wrong by keeping you here with me, Davos? Should I send you back home to your wife and sons?” Stannis asks suddenly.

“M-my lord? Stannis? Have I spoken out of turn? I beg your pardons, my lord, I did not--”

“No, Davos. There is no one I would rather have at my side than you. But it is clear that you love your lady wife very truly, and I should not keep you here where we are both miserable.”

“I have not been miserable a day I have spent in your service, my lord. I have a wonderful wife, five strong sons, a beautiful ship to sail, a just lord to serve, and a friend I love and respect. If I were miserable with all of these blessings upon me I would be a great fool.”

 

The fond smile remains on his face. Stannis is surprised to find his eyes are watering at the tenderness with which Davos speaks; he blames it on the wine. He also does not bother to ask him to call him by name again. They lapse into silence once more as Stannis struggles to regain his composure.

 

“Is this about your wedding to Lady Selyse, my lord?” Davos asks quietly, knowing he has finally hit upon the mysterious problem plaguing his lord.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Stannis says, resignation in his voice.

“I know she is not as lovely as some other maids, but I am sure she will make a fine wife and --”

“No maids are lovely to me, Davos.” Stannis realizes immediately after speaking that he is talking to a man who has spent much of his life at sea. True to form, Davos jumps to the wrong conclusion.

“You...prefer men, my lord?” His eyebrows are near his hairline as he speaks, but his voice does not convey judgement. Stannis finds himself appreciating the sentiment, regardless of its inaccuracy.

“No.” Davos does not press the issue; Stannis can almost see his thoughts whirling as he tries to decipher his meaning. He decides to save him the trouble.

“I do not prefer men or maids, or anything else, for that matter. I have never felt and probably never shall feel love nor desire. But I must needs wed; I need an heir and Robert needs a marriage to the Reach and Renly is still a boy. It is my duty, Davos; I cannot turn away from it.”

“No, I suppose not. I just do not wish to see you suffer so.” He speaks the last sentence haltingly, as though he is trying both to restrain himself and to force the words out.

Stannis feels the unfamiliar prickling of tears in his eyes again. He turns to look at Davos and sees he is in a similar condition, though he isn't sure why.

“You are a true friend, Davos,” he tells him, though he doesn't feel that the words do justice to the affection he feels for him.

“And I shall remain at your side for as long as you desire it, my lord.” Davos stands up and offers his unshortened hand. “You should likely retire for the night. I am afraid your head will be in agony on the morrow,” he says with a wry smile.

Stannis takes his hand and stands up, stumbling slightly.

“Should I call for someone to attend you, my lord?”

“I think I should be able to get out of my own breeches, Davos.”

“Yes, my lord. Good night.” He turns to leave.

“Davos, wait,” Stannis says.

 

Davos stops in his tracks and turns back. Deciding that following one more strange impulse for the night would be but a raindrop in a storm at this point, he strides over to Davos and wraps his arms around him. He feels the other man stiffen out of surprise, but he returns the embrace. It's awkward; both men are reserved by nature, and Stannis can count the times he has recieved physical affection from another person on one hand, but it is also pleasant. Davos is several inches shorter than Stannis, so he finds his head pressed into his friend's chest. Stannis is several times drunker than Davos and finds himself resting his cheek against the top of Davos' head. His hair is a lot softer than he would have imagined. He wonders why he even noticed that. They break apart after a very long few moments, and Davos leaves Stannis to his rest, and to the morrow's small tragedy.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll write a story that isn't nothing but tragic proclamations of platonic love. One day.


End file.
